


Memories Played Out

by wacomintuos



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: (but they come back don't worry), Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Deal with a Devil, Dissociation, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Minor Character Death, Phase One (Gorillaz), Phase Three (Gorillaz), Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-23 22:32:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11999292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wacomintuos/pseuds/wacomintuos
Summary: Plastic Beach: the end of days. The point of no return.Murdoc's PVC paradise has fallen and it looks like the end for Gorillaz. But then, Murdoc and 2D are offered one more chance to save the one thing that is dearest to them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I WASN'T SUPPOSED TO POST THIS UNTIL I FINISHED THE SECOND CHAPTER BUT WHATEVER HERE WE GO here's what i've been working on aka "poor recollection of the rhinestone eyes music video"
> 
> it's canon divergent, phase four never happens etc.

The smell of burning plastic was pungent in the air as Murdoc sprinted across landfill, his boots covered in some awful glue that made a point of hindering him. He was almost out of breath, but he had to find 2D, had to make sure that he was alive. His cyborg had already gone haywire, a trigger happy look in her eyes as she loaded shells into the shotgun Murdoc had built specially for her. She'd gone off to hunt down the Black Cloud, which was fine with Murdoc as long as she wasn't anywhere near him. In retrospect, perhaps he should have seen this coming.

Plastic Beach. The end of days. 

Gasping for air, Murdoc tripped and fell to the ground, stumbling over an iron bar sticking out of the rotting pink polyvinyl that formed the island. He grunted loudly, trying to get up as quickly as he could and never mind the glass jutting into his jeans and the palms of his hands, or the hair that was getting in his eyes. _Stay alive,_ he told himself over and over, like it was the only mantra that mattered. _You have to stay alive, you have to make sure 2D stays alive._

He could hear more gunshots in the distance, but even louder was the sound of whale song from beneath the choppy waves that marooned him there on Point Nemo- the farthest point away from any landmass on earth; almost definitely where nobody could hear you scream. Nobody had picked up Murdoc's frantic distress signals thus far, nor had anyone responded to the loud yelling down the (albeit limited) frequencies of his pirate radio. He was alone here, and everything was coming to a close. Murdoc had never been so terrified in his life. 

If you had told Murdoc when he was twenty one, just after being gifted his bass in return for his soul, that he would end up fighting for his life on a desolate scrapheap in the middle of the ocean, he would have cackled at you, told you not to be such a poof and to get those silly stories out of your head. The Murdoc of today would beg to relinquish all the deals he'd made, terror coiling up in his gut. 

Another gunshot, and Murdoc could tell he needed to keep moving if he wanted to stay in one piece. Part of him so desperately wanted to go save El Diablo, make sure the love of his life wouldn't be taken from him, but the more rational, sober part of him told himself not to be so bloody thick. That damn thing, that vixen of a guitar, was the reason he was in this mess. He needed to focus on 2D. After that he'd begin searching for Noodle, although he was sure she could probably take care of herself, the tough little thing.

Then there was the matter of Russel, who, even though he'd never really liked him, had become one of his best friends. If he could call him that. He was still absolutely huge like a giant, for some stupid reason, and despite all the times they'd fought over the years, Murdoc didn't want him to get hurt. He just couldn't formulate a good enough plan to save them all from their impending doom. He could only do one thing at a time, so for now Russel would have to fend for himself.

2D. Noodle. Safety. Russel. Run. _Run!_

He yelped, feeling something go just by his neck, not touching him but close enough to be felt in the air. Either Murdoc had just imagined that, or he'd almost been caught by a stray bullet. He wondered if Noodle had felt the same panic as he was feeling right now, all those years ago while they were shooting the El Manana video. Forcing himself to go faster despite his aching legs, he darted through an open door and slammed it shut behind him like that would save him. He doubted anything could protect him now, not even the Evangelist, who, conveniently, was nowhere to be found. Shaking hands leant on the desk of one of his many computers, and he made yet another last ditch attempt to communicate with the outside world. 

A tab was open on the computer- which was good, because it meant all the computers on the island were synched up properly. Twitter would sadly be his only possible saviour, and quickly he typed out a message before moving on. Fuck, he hoped Nemo’s internet wasn’t as slow as it usually was, he really did.

_PLASTIC BEACH IS GOING DOWN!! BLACK CLOUD FOUND US! WOULD REALLY LIKE HELP RIGHT ABOUT NOW- SOS!_

Murdoc kept running through the maze that had become his home for the past while, shouting himself hoarse as he forced doors open, scanning the rooms for any sign of his singer. "2D! ARE YOU IN THERE?! STU-POT! IT'S MURDOC, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?"

Every time he didn't hear a reply, he panicked a little more. Sooner or later, he was going to kick down a door and find his mate lying dead in a pool of blood, a dark figure looming over him, he knew it. Murdoc could almost visualise the eerie gas masked gaze of Sun Moon Stars staring into his soul, and he had to swallow hard to knock that awful thought from his mind. He shouted some more, and gasped when he finally heard a noise in the distance.

"Murdoc, Murdoc! It's me, I'm here, help me!" 

The voice was too familiar and too fearful to be his guilty conscience playing tricks on him, so he headed towards the sound. Who knew 2D's terrible, shrill screaming would be the most wonderful thing Murdoc had ever heard? "Keep yelling, Dents! I'm coming, give me a minute!"  
In truth Murdoc was all too ready to give up and collapse, but he was so close to finding 2D that he had to press on, save his exhaustion for when they weren't being gunned down by angry pirates. That small, niggling feeling of dread spoke up again in the back of Murdoc's head, and it was louder than ever. _You're going to die here._

He shrugged it off, following the cries for help. He could tell he was close now.

"Muds, the whale's coming to get me! Please, help!"

He didn't have it in him to shout back, his throat too sore to make too much noise. Finally, he came to a shut door that had been painted a gentle cream, and hammered on it. Of fucking course 2D had locked the damn thing behind him, like he always did. And as usual, he'd lost the key or he'd be out of there already.

"I'm coming!" Murdoc told him as loudly as he could, not waiting for the voice of affirmation before he took a few steps back, then ran into the door, smacking it shoulder first and splintering the wood. He tried again, and through the hole in the door he could make out 2D in all his anxious glory: wide, white eyes, pale blue hair, and shaking like a damn leaf. 

Murdoc started kicking at the door, grunting loudly each time his foot collided with the wood. Suddenly, whale song was the only thing Murdoc could hear- louder than 2D's frightened gibberish and louder than the gunfire outside. 2D squealed as he turned around on his heel, his arms raising to brace himself before he was gone.

Murdoc could swear he saw it happen in slow motion, which was very weird indeed because he wasn't on speed, he knew he wasn't. But he'd seen it, he'd watched frozen with his foot stuck in the door as 2D screamed, the entire room being ripped from the island as the whale dived back into the ocean with the singer and the bloody kitchen in its mouth. 

He tried to call after him, but 2D’s name just died on his tongue. There was only one thing on Murdoc's mind as he stood awestruck, staring at the floor and then at the sea: what a massive dick. Mismatched eyes widening in disbelief, his legs buckled awkwardly at the knees and Murdoc fell to the ground, his foot still embarrassingly stuck in the door. He'd failed. There was no way 2D could have survived that, not way in all of hell. So objective one was fucked- Stu-Pot was dead. Murdoc had no idea what he was supposed to do now.

He shut his eyes, too tired to work out his new plan. If he just rested, for maybe two minutes, he could get up again and at least protect Noodle before everything was over. He could do it. He couldn’t save Stu-Pot, but he’d be damned if he couldn’t save their little girl. Russel would agree, Murdoc knew he would. Little Noodle deserved the world- a better world than the one that was trying to kill her right now. Taking deep breaths, Murdoc pulled his foot out of the door and curled into a ball on the ground. Just a moment, and he’d come to her rescue. Just a moment...

Almost as if preying on Murdoc's sudden weakness, a figure draped in black materialised from the shadows, striding down the corridor. Murdoc groaned helplessly. This really was it. His voice turned soft all of a sudden, as if he was trying to convince the creature to stay away. "Please, Satan, not you, not you, _not you...."_

The figure stopped in front of Murdoc's wreck of a body, kneeling down before him. The horrifying mask of the Boogieman leered into Murdoc's face. It stared at him for a good minute and a half, as if it was judging him for all the sins he’d committed in the past. _There were a lot of those,_ Murdoc thought dully to himself. There really was no escaping fate now, seeing as it had finally caught up with him. He forced himself to look into its eyes, stubborn to the end. Empty goggles were the last thing he saw before air was knocked from his lungs, leaving him choking and grasping at the Boogieman, needing something to hold onto.

After a few seconds, Murdoc passed out and was swept up into the darkness of its cloak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> noot noot the end is not the end stanley
> 
> expect more.... soon, the second chapter is half written and eh
> 
> special thanks to my wonderful gf for proofreadin my crap


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murdoc and Stu Pot decide to play a game with Satan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYYYYYYYYYY IT'S ME, YA BOI CAITLIN WITH A NEW CHAPTER OF THIS CRAP GIVE ME SOME BUTTER BECAUSE I AM ON A ROLL
> 
> special thanks to my beloved gf yet again and the commenter known as Star! i probably would have procrastinated on this even more if you hdn't given me lovely kind words.
> 
> RIGHT, SO WE'RE GETTING INTO PLOT HERE. FINALLY. NOOT FUCKEN NOOT.

He expected that to be it. All his life Murdoc had thought that death really was like curtains, that there was nothing left after it. What surprise he got when he came to, sitting outside some shoddy door. But he was dead, wasn’t he? Why was he so… Well, alive?

He turned his head sluggishly, finding 2D sitting next to him. Of course he was here, hanging around Murdoc like some kind of awful smell. Still, after everything, if he was supposed to linger on after dying horribly, 2D would be the one to do it with.

On his other side sat the Boogieman, who actually _was_ a bad smell and definitely sitting way too close. Murdoc wanted to gag, shifting over closer to his friend, who just looked at him blankly, only slightly wondering why Murdoc had come closer.

Obviously being dead (or whatever the hell they were) dulled the senses, because at that moment, Murdoc realised something that should have been so obvious to him. The two of them looked different. His skin wasn’t green anymore, and 2D almost looked like a different person.

Murdoc was sure he’d seen 2D look like this in photos before, but just that. Dark hair, light eyes, and a little smile on his face; this must have been what he would look like in a better life with no trees to fall out of and no demon bassists careening into him with a battered old Vauxhall Astra. He looked peaceful, almost, staring into the distance. 

His clouded mind struggled to come up with an explanation as to what was going on as the Evangelist appeared, sitting down next to Stu Pot. _Great,_ he thought bitterly. _The whole bloody party._ Murdoc stared at the tentacled creature, then back to the Boogieman. 

He wondered if that masked _thing_ still wanted to eat him for breakfast. Probably. It usually wasn’t good to dwell on these things. 

They were kept waiting an eternity longer, but oddly enough, nobody seemed to know what they were waiting for. After Murdoc began to lose hope that anything would ever happen again, the door creaked open, the knob hitting the wall with a loud bang. Sun Moon Stars stood to its full height, followed by the Evangelist, and then Stu, who clearly knew more about what was going on than Murdoc did. 

Scowling, Murdoc followed them through a dark corridor, trying his best to take in the sights while his eyes adjusted. In truth he didn’t really know what the sights were, but he tried to take them in anyway. 2D ushered him along as he peered at a picture on the wall, and it took him all the self restraint he had not to immediately whack him in the face.

There was a light at the end, which amused Murdoc greatly. The Evangelist made them sit down on rickety chairs, and not a moment sooner a terrifying figure appeared and made Stu whimper and cower behind Murdoc.

It’s _him,_ thought Murdoc with a grin on his face. A hand found it’s way to Stu’s shoulder, comforting him just a little. He’d be lying if he said seeing Satan himself didn’t make him nervous but he wouldn’t be all too surprised if Stu started crying on the spot.

“Satan!” He greeted, offering his free hand. The terrifying creature didn’t seem impressed, not shaking it, and Murdoc’s grin faltered before slipping entirely, and he shoved his hand in the pocket of his jeans.

In that moment, he was all too aware of his surroundings. He could feel the Evangelist and Sun Moon Stars staring him down, and Stu had rested his head on Murdoc’s shoulder, shaking like a leaf and apparently _very_ close to a total panic attack. “Deep breaths,” he mumbled to him gently, patting his shoulder. Stu just nodded quickly, gripping both Murdoc’s shirt and the stool. “Come on mate, ‘s alright.”

Satan watched on, and Murdoc found himself gripping his cross somewhat anxiously. So this was the being he’d spent his life worshipping, eh? After a long, and frankly awkward silence, the devil himself spoke in a booming voice that made Murdoc flinch. “After years of running, you finally come to me. Did you really think you could have avoided this?”

Murdoc didn’t know how to respond to that, playing with the cross and tangling its chain around his fingers. His gaze fell to the floor, a sigh on his lips. Satan was right, he shouldn’t have tried so hard to escape fate, his attempts would only come and bite him on the arse. Stu had seemed to calm down a little, his breathing steadying. He still wouldn’t look up, and now it seemed like Murdoc was rubbing his shoulder for his own benefit, which was only half true. He stopped, letting his arm drop to his side.

Satan continued, talking about the value of the immortal soul, but Murdoc just couldn’t concentrate, drumming his fingers against the side of the stool. He heard something about being violently eaten alive, but it went in one ear and out the other. He interrupted abruptly, blurting out something he’d been wanting to ask. “What happened to Noodle? Is she okay??”

He could feel Stu straighten. Satan seemed to like this question very much indeed, a devious smile on his face as he leaned forwards, waving his hand and showing them both a vision: the poor girl bleeding out into the sand. “Noodle Kyuzo is dead, Murdoc.” 

Murdoc’s eyes widened in horror as he stared, finding he couldn’t look away. This was his own fault, if he hadn’t been caught by Sun Moon Stars, he could have saved her, but she was dead now. Again. For the second time, Noodle was dead and gone. He licked his lips nervously, clutching his cross like it was some type of anchor. 

“What about Russel?” This time the question was from Stu Pot, the singer’s voice cracking just a little. He sounded very angry all of a sudden, not that Murdoc could blame him. Murdoc shut his eyes, almost begging not to hear the answer. He didn’t want to know he’d killed him too. 

The sight of Russel riddled with bullets shot through their minds at a hundred miles per hour whether they liked it or not, and Murdoc let out an involuntary whimper as he hid his face with his hands. The three people he’d cared about most in the world were dead and he was the one who had dragged them into this mess. They’d still be breathing if they hadn’t met him. Stu cleared his throat awkwardly, then took a deep breath. “Can we save them?”

Satan almost purred at the question. “No. You sold your soul to Murdoc and you are doomed to share his fate. Perhaps you should have thought of that before promising things you couldn’t comprehend.” Stu straightened even more to the point where his back was as stiff as a rod. In truth, Murdoc had never known him to look this confident and stubborn in all the time he’d known him, and yet all he himself could do was break down.

“There has to be something we can do,” he argued, and from the corner of his eye Murdoc could see the Boogieman turn to stare at him. “They can’t be dead. What’ll happen to them now?”

“Nothing,” replied Satan. “Nothing that concerns you. But Noodle’s soul was already damned from the moment she set foot in Hades. It was only a matter of time. I can’t say the same for Russel, he may have a chance. I haven’t decided yet.”

Stu stood, slamming his hands down so hard on Satan’s desk that it made Murdoc jump, still caught in a moment of grief for his friends. “She’s a bloody kid, you can’t just doom her soul!!” He paused as Satan stared him down. This must have been hilarious to him. “I have a soul, don’t I?!”

Murdoc frowned, wondering what he was getting at. “You do,” Satan agreed, tilting his head with a wry smile. “Why do you ask?”

“D’you like games?” Stu asked, still standing. “I do. Ever since I was a kid I used to love them, used to hang out by the arcades with my mates and hog all the good ones. I really like the ones where you held the gun and had to shoot at little pixelly monsters.”

Satan nodded, but it was pretty clear he didn’t care for the story. 

“You see,” Stu went on, “games these days, they’ve gotten so tricky, really complex. I don’t see how anyone couldn’t like ‘em.” The bassist sat up in his seat, slowly seeing where this was going. “And so, I’m thinking, like- d’you wanna play a game with us?”

Satan leaned forwards even more, a cheshire grin on his awful face. “Depends what kind of game, Stuart.”

“The kind of game where Noodle wins,” Murdoc interjected, nodding quickly.

“Yeah! My soul for hers. You could send us back to make sure she never ends up in Hades!” There was definitely logic to that- Noodle never ends up in Hades. Murdoc and 2D never go to Plastic Beach. Russel and Noodle don’t die.

The Evangelist shifted in its seat, and the Boogieman let out a small shriek of anger before Satan raised a hand to silence it. “You’re very ambitious, aren’t you?” He asked, and both Murdoc and Stu Pot nodded.

“It could work,” Murdoc pointed out, standing up next to his friend. “And in the end, you still get us, right?”

“This game sounds like fun.” Satan nodded. “Save the damsel in distress, I like it.”

“So you’ll send us back??” Stu asked eagerly, a stupid grin on his face. Satan nodded, and the Boogieman made another sound of fury and disappointment. Murdoc couldn’t help but chuckle at that one- seems like it really _had_ been planning on eating them. 

“Yes, I’ll send you back. Save the girl and I’ll consider what to do with you, hmm?”

“I like the sound of that,” Murdoc agreed quickly, and Stu echoed the opinion even more enthusiastically, that dumb but somehow endearing smile on his features.

Satan raised an eyebrow. “That is, if you can work together. I think this is a bet you’re going to lose, Murdoc Niccals. If you do, I’ll let the Boogieman eat your soul, Stuart’s soul, and Noodle’s soul.” There was a small, smug pause. “In fact, let’s up the stakes: Russel Hobbs’ soul, too.”

Stu Pot looked like he was going to argue, but Murdoc couldn’t quite tell before the dark haired man vanished entirely, a look of panic on his face. Murdoc could barely yell out before he was gone too.

And then, for what felt like it was the first time in his life, Murdoc Niccals opened his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're back. They can fix things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (caitlin voice) is 700 words too much to dedicate to body dysmorphia?
> 
> here's my new installment of crap, making this just about the longest fic i've ever written! also, i don't think we're going to see del so much because i really don't know how to write aave without making myself look like the whitest white person to ever be white
> 
> and i reckon both noodle taught the boys japanese in phase two, which is why they can both understand her now
> 
> as usual a special thanks to the lovely commenters and my beautiful gf!!

**April 22nd, 1998**

 

He had an awful headache, but not the kind he got when he was hungover. He felt so different, and yet, the same. Murdoc sat up awkwardly, rubbing his eyes. Had everything just been a dream? Dying on Plastic Beach, the meeting with Satan, all of it?

He stood up groggily when it hit him. This wasn’t his master bedroom at Point Nemo. This was his Winnebago. He hadn’t had a Winnebago in years... 

His eyes widened as he fell off of the bed and started to rummage about for either a mirror or some kind of diary or newspaper- he didn’t much care which one came first. Eventually, after a lot of backtracking, Murdoc dug up his old notebook filled with tab and lyrics, and found the latest entry was dated _April 21st, 1998._ The day they’d met Noodle.

Fucking hell, all of that was real. Murdoc let out a horrible full body shudder completely involuntarily at the awful sense of deja vu this was giving him. He’d stood here before, he’d read this page before. He sat there on the floor for a while trying not to space out, clutching his head in his hands. These hands weren’t his own, this body wasn’t his- and yet, it was. He’d gone from being forty five to being thirty one in a night and he didn’t like it one bit. 

It took him a good few minutes to drag himself up off of the floor and over to his loo and more precisely, his mirror. Murdoc had to squint at this much younger version of himself- his skin hadn’t gone green yet, there were no surgical scars marring his chest, hips, and stomach, but his hair was as messy and curly as ever and acne was sparse across his chin. He couldn’t keep looking. This couldn’t be real. That man in the mirror wasn’t him, not anymore.

Murdoc even found himself frantically searching for his contact lenses like an idiot, pulling everything out of his medicine cabinet before realising he didn’t _need_ them yet. That would be about right, wouldn’t it? He’d only started wearing contacts to cover his red eye in, say, maybe mid 2005? He’d always had eye problems but for a long time he just hadn’t _cared._

He quickly shoved everything back into the cabinet, stopping when he found his emergency cigarettes. Lucky Lungs, of course- his favourite brand. He didn’t know if this was an emergency per se, but he’d be damned if he could remember if he had a packet of fags lying about on this day thirteen years ago. So he unwrapped the cellophane, scrunching it up in his hand before weakly throwing it on the floor. 

Murdoc sat down on the toilet seat and lit a cigarette with the emergency lighter that had been lying on the counter, taking a well needed drag from what seemed to be the only thing anchoring him to reality just now. Nothing felt real, and all things considered, he looked like shit. He’d apparently fallen asleep with his belt on and even his boots, which was so unusual for him that he had to wonder what had knocked him out. Usually most of the time he couldn’t get to sleep if he was wearing anything more than his underwear. Hell, even the nights he slept wearing his cross were bad ones. He almost always ended up nearly getting strangled by it in the mornings.

He tipped ash into the sink, still half praying that this was a drug induced dream and he was actually sleeping soundly on Plastic Beach. 

Some more self pity and smoking passed by before Murdoc got up again. He couldn’t be bothered to straighten his hair, but he’d be damned if he couldn’t at least get dressed. Well, he was already half dressed, so he could put a shirt on. He looked through his drawers and settled on what was once his favourite turtle necked jumper, then made to leave before he saw the sign scrawled on the door in his own messy handwriting: “DON’T FORGET TO BRING A BAT FOR THE ZOMBIES!”

He chuckled dryly. _Ah,_ he thought. _The zombies._ Now, _that_ was a memory from far back. Most of the Essex zombies had been wiped out when Murdoc had burned Kong to the ground. Grabbing his trusty bat in all its nail spiked glory, he left with less than a spring in his step.

The journey from the cark park to inner Kong wasn’t too perilous- he’d only needed to bash in three skulls before he’d gotten to the door. He made his way to the kitchen and was only mildly surprised to see Del the ghost hovering by the toaster, waiting patiently for food to cook. Obviously, Russel wasn’t awake yet. 

“Alright, Del?” Murdoc asked, setting his bloody bat by the bin, kicking off his boots before sitting next to 2D at the table. Del grinned at him, but his attention was quickly drawn back to the pop of the toaster.

2D looked pale. Thankfully, it was definitely him- blue hair, ink black eyes and a dazed expression. Murdoc couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief, patting him on the shoulder. “Did you have a rough night too, mate?” He asked.

2D looked straight at him, a haunted expression on his face, and instantly Murdoc knew the singer was going through the exact same thing he was. “Yeah,” said 2D, his voice overwhelmingly hollow. “I had a really nasty dream about being eaten by a whale.”

Murdoc nodded. “Funny, I dreamt I had to save you from being eaten by a whale. Odd how that shit works out, innit?” He ignored the weird look he got from Del, offering a pained smile to 2D who just ignored it, looking over to the ghost.

“Noodle isn’t awake yet, see, so Del’s making her toast for when she comes down, aren’t you, Del?”

Del turned to them, a plate in his hands. “I sure am, ‘D! I made some for Russ, too, since he’ll be awake soon.” Murdoc smiled. He’d never quite realised just how much he’d missed Del until talking to him now. Almost as if on cue, Del’s image glitched out before disappearing entirely, the plate falling and smashing on the ground. Russel must have woken up. 

Murdoc swore loudly, taken by surprise at the sudden loud noise. “Cyborg, come and clean this u-” He stopped himself as 2D stared at him. 

“She’s not here anymore.” 2D told him firmly but quietly, leaning his head on his fist. Murdoc looked down at the mess on the floor. Somehow, that knowledge made him want to cry just a little, but why? Murdoc wasn’t a man who cried, but the lurching feeling in his stomach suggested otherwise. Cyborg Noodle didn’t exist yet, which kind of meant she had never existed, didn’t it?

That meant that Murdoc would have to clean up the mess himself, which was good because he’d have his back turned to 2D so he wouldn’t be seen if he actually did start to choke up. He got down onto the floor and picked up the biggest pieces of ceramic, trying his best to ignore the watchful, judging gaze of his friend. 

Footsteps came from down the stairs, small ones. Little Noodle came into the kitchen, still in her pyjamas and it was just so _typical_ that it would be weird for him to hug her. She was safe, and now she didn’t even know him well enough for him to tell her how happy he was to see her! Murdoc kept picking up little pieces before chucking it all in the bin, getting a new plate as Noodle stole his seat from right under him. 

“Del made you toast,” he told her, speaking slowly and clearly. He vaguely remembered how little English she knew, and he wasn’t sure if it was early enough in the morning for him to humiliate himself by trying out Japanese. Granted, he could speak it fairly well, but he hadn’t needed to in a good while. He had to be rusty.

Noodle obviously had absolutely no idea what he’d said and nodded anyway, a smile on her face. “Domo, arigato!” She yelled, taking a bite of the still unbuttered toast. Christ, he was _going_ to bring her some jam or something if she’d waited. By the time he’d opened his mouth to ask, Noodle had gotten through half of her slice to the point where there just wasn’t much point in saying anything, so he just smiled fondly.

She must have been starving, Murdoc realised with some horror. She’d basically been trafficked all the way from Osaka, hadn’t she? Fucking hell, when was the last time she’d eaten before she’d arrived? He didn’t want to think about it. He made his way over to the fridge, peering at what was inside. There wasn’t much, and it made Murdoc remember that they were all poor as fuck.

Being poor was something Murdoc had lived through for most of his life, and it wasn’t something he missed. He took out a smoked sausage and all but threw it into the microwave, not bothering to pierce it with a knife before turning the dial to three minutes.

When he turned back, Noodle was watching him curiously while 2D had gone back to staring into space. Murdoc groaned, he couldn’t deal with this. “Oi, Two Dents, are you still in there? You’re useless to us if you keep spacing out on us like this, yeah? Come on, Ground Control to Stu Pot.” After a minute without a response, Murdoc just sighed. “Guess there really is a circuit broken in there somewhere.” 

There was a sudden bang from the microwave and Murdoc opened the door in a hurry, pulling out the sausage by the plastic wrapping that had melted just a little around the edges. Well, that _had_ to be cooked by now. He pried it out of the wrapping and skewered it to a fork, carrying it to the table and unceremoniously dumped it onto Noodle’s now empty plate. “Here you go, love. Wait for it to cool a little, yeah?”

Noodle picked up the fork, blowing hard on the smoked sausage before taking a big bite. _She’s going to get hiccups if she goes on eating as fast as that,_ Murdoc thought to himself. 2D’s hand moved forward slowly, picking up the newspaper that was lying next to a bunch of letters. Yesterday’s paper, more than likely. 

Murdoc sighed, resting his head down on the table. He felt like he should be tired, but somehow he just wasn’t. 2D looked as if he was having an even worse time of things, and Murdoc couldn’t blame him. He looked so utterly wrecked, only glancing over to Noodle every couple of minutes, then back to the paper. Murdoc had been watching the man’s eyes and how they went over and over a line of text, as if he couldn’t focus enough to read it properly.

Loud footsteps down the stairs and Murdoc beamed, getting up. “Good morning Russel!” He all but sang, uncharacteristically happy to see him. Russel smiled back, waving slightly before sitting down.

“What’d I miss?” He asked, taking the newspaper from 2D.

“Noodle’s having breakfast and Del made you toast and that’s it really,” 2D shrugged, slouching forwards. “Dunno what we should do today. I think we should get N- the kid a language interpreter, you know? Like, I know this guy called Alan, and he could teach her English.”

Ah, Murdoc thought. Alan. He’d never been the brightest man, but he’d made talking to Noodle so much easier back in the day. “I could try and teach her English, you know. I dug up me ol’ Japanese to English dictionary and now I’m fluent.” 

Russel just raised an eyebrow. “Look, man, I’ve heard some crap in my time, but you can’t learn Japanese in one day.”

“Of course I can!” Murdoc argued, and rattled off a long sentence in Japanese. 2D understood it, he could tell from the look in his eyes, and Noodle looked straight up at him, amazed that the weird man knew how to say things she could understand. 

Murdoc grinned. _“Bet you didn’t know I could do that, did you?”_ He asked her, and her eyes widened in amazement. “See, Russ, I know what I’m doing. I can teach her.”

He knew fine well that Noodle could speak English- the memories were deeply repressed in that little head of hers. He wondered if it would be cruel not to tell her who she was, but it was something she had to find out on her own, wasn’t it? It might hurt her, and after everything, that was the last thing he wanted to do.

“I for one, think we should pimp out her bedroom or something. If she’s gonna be riding with my band Gorillaz-”

“Gorilla.” Russel corrected.

Noodle grinned. “GORILLA-ZZZZZZ! NOODLE!” 

“Kid said it, we’re calling ourselves Gorillaz. Besides, it’s a cool name. Sets us apart. But as I was saying before you, lard-arse, interrupted, I think she deserves to live in style. I mean, yeah, we don’t exactly have millions, but she deserves it, doesn’t she?”

“We can make it work, can’t we?” 2D nodded. His voice didn’t sound any more lively than it was before, but Murdoc could tell he was beginning to show promise. “I mean, my parents have money saved up for me. I was supposed to use it to go to college, but I don’t mind using it all up. Er, for Noodle.”

Russel thought about it, then nodded. “You know what? That has to be the best idea you’ve had since we met, Murdoc. Go ask her what she thinks, if your Japanese is so good.”

Murdoc did. Noodle jumped up and down in her seat, nodding frantically. “See? The little miss likes it, we’ll pop down to B&Q, and we’ll get her all set up. I mean, just because she’s got no one else in her life doesn’t mean she should have to suffer for it.”

2D hummed, nodding his head. He looked like he was either completely stoned or about to fall asleep. Was he getting his headaches again?

Murdoc stood up, dragging 2D up roughly by the arm. “Come on pretty boy, your pyjamas are nice but you’ll need to get up properly if you want to be seen with me in public. Up you get.” With absolutely no protest, he managed to pull him upstairs and shove him into his room. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Murdoc demanded, sitting down on the bed. “Sweet Satan, shut the door, walls ‘ave ears.” 

2D slammed the door, running his hands through his hair. “We did it!” He exclaimed, pacing about the room with his long, long legs. “We’re back, Murdoc, we’re _back.”_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murdoc struggles. 2D snaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> does anyone remember this? me neither but here's an update after exactly a year and a day after i originally posted the damn thing. sorry about that. a lot has happened and the gorillaz fandom has been a mess. 
> 
> special thanks to that one friend who proofread this for me when i wrote it a few months ago. if you're reading this, although i doubt you are, cheers. 
> 
> to that commenter, star, thanks to you too!! you've probably forgotten this fic by now but believe me, every time i sit down to write some more, i think about you and how you've encouraged me. it means a lot to me.

Adjusting to everyday life was never something Murdoc would think could be a struggle, but he was quickly finding that he was actually missing the blight of technology. 2D, however, never really seemed to have this problem, but maybe that was just because over the past few years he’d started to ramble about how the robots would take over society when he was drunk. Too much horror movies, Murdoc had initially thought. Maybe if he’d subscribed to that way of thinking years ago, he wouldn’t be having so many problems right now, not constantly glued to a screen. 

He sighed out, holding the long cable of Noodle’s fairy lights in his hands, going up the ladder to pin them against the wall. It wasn’t like there had ever been an issue with the lighting in Noodle’s bedroom, not with those gigantic windows overlooking the town of Chelmsford, but he wanted to give her something to make her feel better in the dark of night. It wasn’t anything that she had ever told him, but Murdoc knew full well that Noodle had an awful, chronic fear of the dark. If there was anything he could do to alleviate that just a little, he would, no questions asked. 

Pinning it into place, he smiled, looking back to the little girl who was perched on her bed in one of those weird positions that only a seven year old could really handle without losing her balance. Earlier that day they’d bought her some crayons and one of those cheap scrapbooks from the 99p shop and she seemed happy enough with them, drawing figures that were probably supposed to be humans in bright colours with her tongue stuck out in concentration. This was the little girl Murdoc remembered, but watching her like this, so peaceful, just made him feel like an outsider looking in- depressingly so. 

_“How does this look?”_ He asked her, the Japanese rolling off of his tongue like a kind of thick treacle. It was unnatural, almost, for him to be speaking like this after so long, but it was something he’d just have to get used to get used to it unless he only wanted to communicate with Noodle with vague gestures that just make him seem more than a little racist. ‘Hey- you speak-a the English?’ The thought made him shudder. Ugh. Noodle didn’t seem to notice his various internal struggles and just looked up from her work, giving him a thumbs up. She didn’t seem too fazed about it either way, which Murdoc figured was better than outright disapproval. _“Right, well… I’m gonna get out of your hair, then.”_ No response. 

Well, that was just fine. It wasn’t as if Noodle owed him anything or something. She didn’t know him as well as he knew her. 

With that, Murdoc darted out of the door only to immediately walk right into Russel, grunting as he smashed head first into his friend’s chest. _Ah, the joys of being short!_ he thought, just a tiny underlay of malice in the tone of his running mental commentary. “Watch where you’re bloody well going, you gigantic fucking lump!” He complained out loud instead, because this entire thing obviously was Russel’s fault- because what arsehole just marches into a room and knocks someone over like that? What a prick. 

“Murdoc-” Russel began, and he was clearly tired judging by the sound of his voice. Murdoc was pretty sure he’d been up the night before trying to work out a way for him and Del to communicate, but with no luck. The bassist most certainly was not going to tolerate the interruption, however, and pushed on right past him, a harsh scowl on his face. “Aw, come on, Murdoc, you know it was an accident!”

“Accident my _arse!_ Stay out of my way!” There was the sound of stomping down the hallway until Murdoc slammed a door shut, hoping that his suddenly foul mood was reflected by his actions. 

And then, there’s one of those rare moments of self-reflection that leaves just as quickly as it arrives. Why was he so angry? Was it because he hadn’t seen Russel coming and walked into him? No, it was something else. Was it because Noodle didn’t recognise him, didn’t see him as anything else other than the strange man who was looking after her for the time being? Murdoc flopped onto a couch and turned the TV on, flicking through the channels. 

No, it definitely wasn’t that. 

He threw the remote onto the coffee table as soon as Beavis and Butthead came on, stretching himself out to be comfortable. Murdoc wasn’t exactly sure how long he lay there watching MTV, but when 2D quietly sat down on top of his legs he was immediately pulled out of his reverie. He blinked a few times, watching his friend. 

“Russel told me you yelled at him, Murdoc.” Straight to the point. Murdoc didn’t have an argument for that one for once in his life, because yeah, that was exactly what had happened. “You know, Noodle saw the whole thing. You scared her.”

Murdoc can’t offer a retort other than, “Oh.” 2D nodded at him, somehow managing to look both serene and amazingly pissed off. It’s as if he’d been anticipating that response. 

“I’m not being funny, yeah, but you need to stop.” When Murdoc opened his mouth to interject, black eyes glared down at him. Murdoc wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen 2D project such an aura of confidence directed at him, but it seemed like the singer was just full of surprises. _“Don’t._ No, really, don’t. Not a word from you, alright? For once, I do the talking.” Murdoc sighed, but waved a hand and moved to turn off the telly. “We’re doing this for Noodle, aren’t we? So you can’t go around scaring her like that, she’s only little and if you let her know you’re a monster now then things won’t ever change!”

After what was probably the longest intelligent sentence Murdoc had heard from 2D in a good few years, all was silent. “You’ve been thinking about this, then?” Murdoc asked, snide evident in his voice. He was about to continue on with a long winded insult before 2D glared at him, forcing him to recoil. Well… That was certainly new. Or maybe it was old and had only recently been beaten out of him. Murdoc couldn’t tell. “Alright, alright, go easy on me, yeah? I’m trying my best here. It ain’t easy…” He hummed a few bars of the song as 2D relaxed a little, turning the god awful television back on. Beavis and Butthead had finished up- now Celebrity Deathmatch was on. 

“Can you imagine if we were on this?” 2D grinned, moving Murdoc’s legs onto his lap without a second thought. “I mean, we could be on this! I reckon they stopped it in what, 2006? We were totally famous when this aired.”

A laugh from Murdoc, and for just a few moments it seemed like everything was as it should have been. “No, you dullard. You know just as well as I do that those MTV losers are the pricks we’re trying to stand out from.” 

“Oh yeah, but it’s a nice thought, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely.”

The two sat like that for a good while in a forced sort of amiability, engrossed in the awful television even though they were both pretty sure they’d seen that particular episode before. It’s easier than just letting themselves keep arguing.


End file.
